


where the pain was coming from

by Radio Rascal (Vagrants)



Category: Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers: Cyberverse
Genre: Based on a Dream, Coma, M/M, but Shock is Gay and Can't Admit It To Himself, i don't want to tag the ship because they're...not in a relationship, i only tagged Cyberverse because those were the designs my subconscious gave them, idk when this is set or where!! it's just happening!, maybe this can be a headcanon for where Megatron is right now in the show idk
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-06
Updated: 2019-01-06
Packaged: 2019-10-05 03:59:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,581
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17317667
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vagrants/pseuds/Radio%20Rascal
Summary: Megatron was severely injured in an assassination attempt, and now lays in a coma. Shockwave tries to help.





	where the pain was coming from

**Author's Note:**

> in my dream Shockwave was cradling Megatron against his chest and had Megatron's head pressed against his shoulder (you've seen movies) but i couldn't justify that in my waking brain
> 
> there was also a point where Shock was talking about taking Megs off life support and i didn't include THAT because NO!

Shockwave was used to the constant hum of overhead lights and occasional beep of life support machines. They were makeshift timekeeper, each mechanical chirp separated by ten seconds of humming silence. He never glanced at the clock on the wall, never moved his optic at all save for when it was time to leave, so he measured time by counting the beeps.

In sixty solar cycles, there had been nothing to see, but if he considered looking away he would think  _ It could be the next second _ and find himself immobilized by his own logic. Megatron lay still on the berth, arms tucked against his sides, head positioned so that he would be staring at the ceiling when he decided to open his optics.

With the leader indisposed, Decepticon high command had to take on more responsibilities. Shockwave had a tight schedule to begin with, and it was only by sacrificing already-scarce recharge time that he was able to make these late medbay visits. Somebody had to keep Megatron abreast of all the warfront developments.

The medics didn’t know how aware Megatron was in his state, but there was a chance he could hear everything, so Shockwave told him everything. Incident reports, casualties, victories and losses; every battle, skirmish, sortie, errand, and midnight stroll; plans for the future near and distant. Shockwave was not as good at collecting gossip as Soundwave (he didn’t want to be) but all the important things he knew, shifting interpersonal loyalties and relationships and arguments and other things that didn’t mean much to him, but could be important topographical updates to Megatron’s own map of the universe.

His voice droned on and on. He summarized the cycle’s events in a few minutes then moved on to slightly different topics.

“The Autobots will likely gain control of the mine,” Shockwave said, then paused, waiting for any sign of a response. News like this should have incensed Megatron, but he remained still. It was ~~scary~~  almost fascinating, that someone like him could be rendered so vulnerable.

“If you were there, we would not lose,” Shockwave said, his voice flat and unassuming. He did not wish; it was simple math that gave him this confidence.

He  _ couldn’t _ wish, when it came to this. If he did, he was admitting that medical science could do nothing more for Megatron. It was as useful as praying to Primus, which he’d already ~~considered~~  dismissed out of hand for being a pitiful waste of time.

After he was done speaking, he sat in silence, though it wasn’t quite  _ companionable _ considering the circumstances. Soundwave had accompanied him at the start, and would play music when Shockwave fell silent. He’d gotten annoyed the first time, until Soundwave explained they were songs from MacCadam’s, and triggering memories could help Megatron find his way out of his mental prison.

Then Soundwave stopped coming as often, as did the others. Shockwave was the only one who came every cycle, which was irritating but unsurprising. Who else was as ~~desperate~~  dedicated? Of course he, who controlled his life with laser precision, was able to always find time, to  _ make _ time if there was none. Megatron needed visitors.

It was the best way to ensure his recovery—it didn’t have to be Shockwave, but none of the others ~~cared anymore anyway~~  contested him doing this. Maybe this was everyone’s way of saying  _ We hold you responsible, Shockwave, and here is your penance. _

They’d thought the battle was over, he and Megatron, and were on their way back to base. Iacon was crumbling around them, dark and empty and suffused with dim emergency lights from the few structures that were still operational.

It happened in a second; Megatron paused and turned to him, ready to say something, then his head exploded. Were it not for the distant crack that registered in Shockwave’s audials, he may have thought Megatron burst into flame spontaneously. The silver robot toppled backward and his body clanged against the ground.

Shockwave stood there for a whole second, long enough for his mind to do a revolution around the planet and slam into the back of his head, pushing him forward, forcing him to his knees by Megatron’s side. The blast had taken off half his head, exposing sparking wires, part of the brain module, and plenty of energon. He was conscious, inexplicably, terribly.

He started to move and Shockwave forced him down. The optic closest to his injury stuttered, spasming through different shades of red, getting dimmer—greyer. It was hard to tell with his natural colors, but his plating was fading as well.

“Do not move,” Shockwave said, firmly. “You will exacerbate your injury. I have already sent a distress signal.”

Megatron fell unconscious before the medics arrived. To Shockwave, it seemed like they were ambling. Nothing was moving fast enough for his liking, and he recalled telling them this multiple times.

Nobody expressed blame in the coming cycles, everyone too focused on catching the Autobot sniper or fretting over Megatron’s flickering spark. The only one who had time for blame, it seemed, was Shockwave himself. He knew it wasn’t rational—the Autobot had pulled the trigger, not him—but in still moments like these his processor always replayed the memory and pointed out places where he could have performed better.

Why did he freeze, for example? An entire second had been lost due to his own inadequacy. He could have fired back at the sniper, or at least seen which direction they fled, or caught Megatron instead of letting him fall…

When he returned to base, when he finally got a moment alone, he ran diagnostics on himself over and over. They returned nothing. Normal. What happened to him there was  _ normal _ ? Eventually he let it go, but he hadn’t quite learned to trust himself again. Until he learned why his reactions had screamed to a halt, he didn’t let himself work on things that required quick reflexes.

Shockwave realized his thoughts were meandering and cut them off immediately. This wasn’t productive. If he had nothing else to do, then he should leave and get some work done—be useful, instead of sitting here and ~~worrying~~  sitting around like a lazy drone.

He stood abruptly, optic glaring down at Megatron’s inert frame. _ There is nothing else to be done, _ he thought.  _ Not even I… _

_ There is something that hasn’t been done, _ he realized. Each of Megatron’s senses had been tested, to both measure his awareness and check for things that might trigger his awakening—each except touch. Other robots were afraid to touch him, for good reason, and Decepticons weren’t known for such displays in general. As far as Shockwave knew, the only other robots to touch Megatron were enemies or medics.

If triggering memories wasn’t working, maybe shocking his system would—doing things he wouldn’t expect might force him to react. Now that Shockwave had the idea, it seemed a good thing to try. Who would perform this experiment?

He looked down at his clenched fist. He didn’t mind physical touch.

His servo hovered over Megatron, frozen in the air with the digits splayed out. Something tightened around his spark, making it pound, making his head buzz. It felt like a force field was keeping him from lowering his limb, but he couldn’t pull it back, either. His processor analyzed the feeling and helpfully informed him that he was ~~shy~~ ~~scared~~ ~~excited~~  ///

“Medic,” he called.

The door opened in seconds. A red head poked in.

“Am I permitted to touch the patient?”

“What kind?” The medic raised a quizzical brow at the poised servo.

“I believe it would be beneficial for our leader if someone placed their servo on his for a few minutes. This would stimulate the part of the processor that deals with physical contact and possibly assist in recovery. As I am the only visitor present, I was going to volunteer my own servo.”

“Uh, yeah. Of course you’re allowed to hold someone’s hand. Go wild.” The medic ducked out before he could admonish the lack of respect.

Shockwave sat back down, calmed by the interaction. He was merely concerned about adverse effects—that had to be the reason behind the bizarre processor glitch. After all, he wasn’t a medic, and he knew when to defer to the expertise of others.

He raised his arm again, and forced himself to close the gap between his servo and his leader. This hesitation was making him ~~angry~~  question the validity of his idea. Obviously some part of him thought it wouldn’t work. Still, he managed contact.

The silver plating was cool to the touch. Shockwave covered the inert digits with his own, warming the metal. He found himself rendered silent and thoughtless by the stillness of the moment. He kept both Megatron’s face and the machines in his sight, searching for a reaction from either. Nothing happened and after a few minutes he removed his servo.

Why did he think he would get results? It wasn’t like him to be so irrational. Maybe he’d sustained processor damage too. That had to be where the pain was coming from.

Shockwave reminded himself that he was a scientist—one test was not sufficient for a conclusion. He had to wait for results, and he had to repeat his tests...many times. He would do this, every cycle, for the next million years if he must. There was nobody else he’d rather leave with the task.

**Author's Note:**

> i'm not entirely happy with this but i'm posting it anyway because i've been Super Depressed recently and my ability to self-evaluate is nonexistent right now. if i wait until i'm "satisfied" it'll never go up


End file.
